No Questions Asked
by viciousmotives
Summary: Hope's father left a final will and testament that got Lightning to pack up her bags and show up at Hope's door at a moment's notice. An episodic take on their life under one roof.
1. Prologue

**Note:** First off, thank you so much to those who read and commented on Reservations! Your feedback had been really encouraging. I didn't really plan on starting another story so soon, and a multi-chapter one at that, but fic bunnies love to play plus they bite really, really hard. This first chapter is mostly to set the context, so please do stick around for the subsequent drabbles/situations. Enjoy!

* * *

**No Questions Asked**

_Prologue_

"L-light?"

He got no response. Instead, a large duffel bag was shoved into his arms as Lightning walked into his house with a suitcase in tow.

"What's all this? What are you doing?"

Lightning gave him a small smile, which did nothing to ease the boy's confusion.

"So, where's my room?"

"Wha-?"

* * *

Lightning could care less about the jargon, the technicalities, and the fine print. Her mind contained one thing, and one thing only.

_Hope._

A man in a suit showed up on her doorstep on Sunday afternoon, with a thick envelope containing details of the Estheim estate. It had everything that Hope's father left behind—the bank accounts, the properties, the land titles.

_All these trivial things_, Lightning mused, _are all that's left for him_.

"Ms. Farron, as for the provisions in Mr. Estheim's last will and testament," the lawyer started. "How do you intend to fulfill them?"

Her answer was straightforward enough. "I'll pack up and leave tonight."

The man gave her a steady gaze. "There's no rush, really. The state could keep temporary guardianship for the week until you sort out all your affairs in Bodhum."

"That won't do. It has to be tonight."

"In that case, I could send for a car to pick you up at 7."

"All right."

He stood up. "Are you sure that you don't want to stay for at least a couple more days?"

Lightning merely shook her head.

"Okay then. Thank you for your time, Ms. Farron. Call me if you need anything."

* * *

"Light, you really don't have to do this," Hope said weakly. He sat on his bed—well, hers now—and watched as his unexpected companion opened her suitcases and started claiming his space bit by bit with her possessions. "What were you thinking, just packing up and leaving like that? Your house is there, your sister's there, your job's there. Everything's there."

Lightning turned to look at Hope.

"But _you're _here."

She pointed this out like it was the simplest thing in the world. He didn't know how to respond to that. He laced and unlaced his fingers repeatedly as he sat in silence.

She went on, "Besides, I gave your father my word." Hope's eyes widened in surprise and looked at her quizically. Though her back was turned to him, Lightning sensed the unspoken question and obliged.

"He called me sometime after the whole l'Cie mess was sorted out. He wanted to be prepared for anything, so he asked me if, just in case, I could be your legal guardian until you turn 18. He said it'd be unlikely, but... you know how that turned out."

Hope was quiet for a long time. Just as Lightning stood up to move her suitcase to a corner, she felt his arms wrap around her waist as he hugged her from behind. His head rested against her shoulder. He tried to say something, anything, but nothing would come out.

But there was no need. Lightning felt his despair, his fear, his relief, his gratitude.


	2. Chapter 1: Bed and Breakfast

**Note:** I really meant to update sooner! Aside from life getting in the way, I was stuck on the direction of this fic. The idea was so fresh when I wrote the intro chapter, and since then I've gone through a series of false starts, a stream of rough drafts for futurechapters, and a bunch of plots for fics that I shouldn't be writing… yet. Writing fic can be really challenging, it turns out. Oh, and I recently finished the actual game, (Spoiler!) and now I know that setting this story on Cocoon is a bit of a mistake. (/End Spoiler)

I said I'm writing this story drabble-style, but the paragraphs got longer, so let's just say that the story is more _episodic_ in nature. Hope's sleeping issues are partly derived from reality, and believe me when I say that this and dealing with someone's death are not fun things to go through. So I let him mope around a bit, whoops!

As always, please enjoy and don't forget to leave a note if you do! If something bugs you or you simply don't like the story, you're also free to tell me what you think went wrong. In any case, thanks for reading!

* * *

**No Questions Asked, Chapter 1**

**Bed and Breakfast**

It was during the second week at breakfast.

Hope held on to his piece of toast but did not eat it. The fingers that touched the bread were now coated with strawberry jam. The sticky sensation on his skin did not bother him in the slightest.

His mind wandered off in tangents, completely oblivious to the curious gaze of the woman sitting across him.

As he ran through his mental to-do list for the day, he became dimly aware of something moving. Moments later, he felt rough, calloused fingers on his chin, and soon enough he was staring back at a pair of questioning blue eyes.

"Light?"

"You look pale."

He answered with a small, strained smile, "History report. Kept me up 'til 3."

Light pulled away and settled back on her seat. The frown on her face told him that she wasn't entirely convinced.

Hope kept his expression in place, but quickly settled for staring at his barely eaten breakfast. He burned under her scrutiny. She was onto him, and his excuses were running thin.

* * *

When Lightning moved in, she took no time to decide on room assignments. She took his room, leaving Hope no choice but to transfer to the master's bedroom. He tried to talk her out of it, but she did not even pause to reconsider.

"I don't own this place." She reminded him, "This is your home."

Those words made Hope wince. Hearing them again reminded him of a moment that now felt distant and unreal. They were the same words spoken by his father under this very roof. Words of assurance. Words of care. Words that made his heart swell.

The same words, two years later, did nothing but make his throat tight, and his eyes suspiciously wet.

Hope was left with a dull ache in his chest as he retired to his—no, _his parents'_ room, after helping Lightning unpack (and burying his head onto her shoulder. No, there is no shame, there is no shame in that.).

He lay down on the bed made for two, but kept his eyes open. It was the beginning of another long, sleepless vigil.

He glanced at either side of him, noting the wide spaces between his outstretched arms and the edges of the mattress. As a child, he would creep up to this same bed after a bad dream and push his way until he settled on the space between his parents. He would lie there and listen to his father's slow and steady breathing, until his fearful shivers were quelled by the comfort of his mother's warm embrace. Now, there was nothing in that room but the sound of his own ragged breathing, and the only warmth he felt was from the trail of tears running down his cheeks.

This bed was too vast for him to fill, the emptiness too much to find rest.

* * *

Lightning woke up to a cold draft coming from outside. She glanced at the bedside clock. It was only 3 in the morning.

She got up to close the window, then decided to check the rest of the house. As she made her way down the hall, she noticed the light coming from the living room. She walked on to inspect the matter.

That was how she discovered Hope slumped on the couch, fast asleep. A pillow rested under his arms that encircled it. A book lay open on the floor, like it slipped from his grasp as he nodded off to slumber. His textbooks and notebooks formed a messy heap on the table, alongside pens and several crumpled pieces of paper. She shook her head at the sight, and wondered if his school gave him that much homework.

Hope was still on the couch when she rose up a few hours after. She nudged him awake for breakfast. His eyes flew open in an instant. Lightning found his sudden wakefulness rather off-putting, creepy even, but handed him a cup of warm water by way of greeting. He took it, muttered his thanks, and proceeded to the kitchen rummage for a tea bag.

During the first few days, Lightning assumed that he had a major test coming up and spent late nights to prepare for it. Students had their own methods, though Hope's habits did not seem very healthy.

After the first week, the circles under Hope's eyes turned shades darker. She would comment on it in passing and get the standard 'I was studying' response every time. She offered to help him with homework, and noted how he tensed up before declining. She asked if she should call to ask the school why they're given more work than they could handle, but he jumped and said it wasn't necessary.

Lightning caught on. She realized that there was no major test to study for and no history report to spend sleepless nights on. She noticed that he finished his homework early, hours before he went to the couch to 'study'. There was no reason to stay up late, and no reason to fall asleep on the couch every night.

Whatever was happening with him, she will find out sooner or later.

* * *

Hope considered telling her, but he was ashamed, so ashamed. It was such a silly and childish thing. Monsters did not prowl underneath his bed. Dreams were not real, frightful as they may be. He was old enough to know all these.

He'd seen enough horrors in the flesh when he was a l'Cie—innocent people getting killed, monsters tearing upon other beasts, friends and family disappearing right in front of his eyes. There was no sugarcoating it. He'd seen blood spill. He _made_ blood spill too. He nearly exacted murderous revenge on his own comrade, even. He lay there on his bed by way of blood and sacrifice. He was lucky to be alive.

No, this problem of sleeping at night was _nothing_ compared to the life of terror he lived then. It was even pathetic.

Hope willed himself to be calm, but his body would not follow. He can't help but jump at every small sound, at every tiny movement of light and shadow. His mind was not at rest either. Thoughts raced through his head. The more he tried to silence them, the louder and more chaotic they became.

In the stillness of night, everything was amplified.

To him, sleeping in the master's bedroom was next to impossible. He had better luck on the couch, but it was still difficult. He kept himself in the company of textbooks, giving him an excuse to leave the light on. He scanned through chapters at random until his brain shut down.

Once he surrendered to sleep, what followed? Only nightmares. He dreamed of losing them over and over and over. He could not move. Something was restraining him. And he could only watch as they drifted far, far away.

It was a hand that nudged him awake every morning that took him back to reality. His eyes always flew open in surprise, followed by relief to see that morning had broken and Lightning was there with their breakfast ready.

Hope didn't know how waking up could be so exhausting.

* * *

He didn't know how it happened, but it did.

One morning on the third week, Hope felt a persistent nudge on his shoulder. It was Lightning waking him up as always. His entire left side was sore, and was the couch harder than usual? His eyes stayed shut. He couldn't remember his dream, or whether he dreamed at all.

He muttered unintelligible things, as if to say that he was awake, or almost awake, at the very least.

"Get up, Hope," he heard Lightning say. She sounded more urgent than usual, so he finally opened his eyes as he sat up... from the floor. He gave a small yelp of surprise as he finally took in his surroundings. He was on the floor of his room. His old room, he corrected himself.

Lightning's room, to be exact.

By then his guardian stood before him, arms crossed with a stare he could swear was reserved for criminal interrogations. He stared at her nose, no, he couldn't look at her in the eye, as he blabbered through an apology.

"I- I'm sorry! I don't know how I got here, I swear!" He doesn't see it, but he could tell that her eyes narrowed into slits. "Maybe I was so tired from studying and went here without thinking, y-you know, because it's my old room?" He was greeted by silence, but he continued. "I'm… I'm so sorry Light. I swear this will _never_ happen again."

Hope exited the room half-running. As he closed the door to his actual bedroom, realization finally set in. He wanted to kick himself for being stupid.

It was really an honest mistake. How he ended up on the floor of Lightning's room was anybody's guess. But there he was, immediately flying on the defensive and sounding more _guilty_ than apologetic.

Hope cursed under his breath. His overreaction gave him away. Whatever it was that Lightning suspected, she now had the right to ask.

But he had to admit, he never felt more rested than today and never more relieved for a night of dreamless sleep. Never mind the cold, hard floor.

* * *

Lightning never asked him anything over breakfast, but her gaze on him never wavered. She sat there, _waiting_ for him to finally say something. He didn't, but he knew he could not hold up much longer.

He told her everything after dinner. All she did was sit in front of him and listen. She didn't say a thing. She never chided them for being 'such a kid' or 'not being strong enough', as he half-expected her to say. She didn't judge him, and that was comfort enough. It was all he needed to open up.

"But you look much better today," Lightning remarked as he finished. Her thumb brushed under his right eye as she inspected his dark, puffy circles.

"I- I don't know how long I slept on the floor, but it felt longer than usual. And I don't remember having a nightmare or anything, so…" Hope scratched the back of his head, unsure of what to make of it. "That's a good thing?"

Lightning bit her lip as her face took on a thoughtful look, "You can't keep sleeping on the floor though."

Hope shot her a withering look. "Light, I won't fall asleep in your room _again._"

"Hm." Her lips formed a hard line, "Then it's not my room anymore. You can sleep there. I'll take the couch."

"But Light-"

"Hope, just try it out," She placed her arms firmly on his shoulders as if to emphasize the point. "Okay?" With her stance, there was no room for protest.

He finally nodded in agreement. She cupped his cheek briefly and shot him a small smile. "Good."

He was back in his old room that night. He didn't know how it could make a difference, but somehow it did. The sounds and shadows in his room did not terrorize him, dreams did not follow him into the night, and restful slumber welcomed him with open arms.

* * *

The next morning, Lightning woke up to the smell of freshly made toast and coffee.

She found Hope in the kitchen, laying out breakfast neatly on the table. He looked more rested and energetic, and his eyes didn't seem as heavy as before. She wanted to be sure, though.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked as she took a plate of eggs, cooked sunny-side up, from his hands and onto the table.

Hope smiled, a real smile at long last, "Couldn't be better, actually. Thanks."

He set down a cup of coffee on her side of the table. On his side, a tea bag was already in his own steaming cup. They sat across each other as always, but breakfast was different today. Hope felt light for the first time in weeks. A good night's sleep, it turned out, made all the difference.

"So… Light?" he started as he spread jam on his toast with a butter knife. "Maybe you can sleep in the master's bedroom?"

"Hmph." There was a glint of amusement in her eyes, "Never."

"I knew it," he chuckled. "Sorry, but the couch is all yours now."

Her fingers closed around the stem of her coffee cup. "I figured."

"So the least I can do is make breakfast everyday and let you sleep a little longer, right?"

He saw her lips stretch upward before she took a sip, "Sounds good."

"Oh yeah. And Light—"

"Yes?"

There was no reason, really. But it was one of those days when he could say it and actually mean it.

The smile he was holding turned into a grin.

"Good morning."

* * *

**End note:** Believe it or not, sometimes it's a matter of sleeping in a place where you feel safe. If you don't believe me, it's on the internet and everything, hahaha! Hope you guys stick around for the next installment. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 2: Confessionals

**Note:** First off, thank you so much for the reviews/story alerts/favorites! Second of all, am I bad at updating or what? This chapter had been mostly written for weeks but finishing it was another matter. I do have a convenient excuse, though. You see, I'm about to move halfway across the world very, _very_ soon. Hopefully, the change won't derail me too much. Don't worry about the future of this fic, though. There's definitely an internet connection where I'm going.

An anon reviewer (Hi!) wants to know if this is a romantic fic. I'll have to tease you guys for a bit and not answer that directly. What I can tell you right now is that their relationship will certainly evolve throughout the story. The next chapter, in fact, takes place after a year or so. People may or may not hate me a little for the changes that come with it. In my mind, there are certain things that need to happen before anything romantic can happen between these two. Whether or not I will pursue that direction, well, just read and find out!

**WARNING:** Major spoilers for the game ending, and slight references to Episode Zero. Additional warning for the presence of Snow Villiers.

* * *

**No Questions Asked  
****Chapter 2  
****Confessionals**

"_May I burden you, Miss Farron?"_

"_Please, call me Light."_

_Lightning eyed the man across her with a placid yet guarded expression. She did not know what Bartholomew Estheim intended for this meeting—just the two of them, in a quiet coffee shop in Bodhum._

_They were regular correspondents after the fall of Cocoon, with Mr. Estheim acting as a bridge to the new government. The former l'Cie had much to thank for this man, as he lobbied fiercely to keep their privacy. With their names undisclosed and footage deleted from public datalogs, they were given a new lease on life, where they can live as they wished and away from the scrutiny of the populace._

_Bartholomew laid his hands on the table, fingers laced. His face was serious and earnest, and his eyes bore the gravity of experience. Silver hairs peeked out among strands of brown—a sign of age, but for Lightning, a reminder of the boy who shared his last name._

_Like father, like son indeed, Lightning thought to herself._

"_One year," he said. "It's been one year since you brought my son back to me."_

_She shook her head. "I've said this before," she responded. "But he returned out of his own strength. He'd come a long way." A fond smile escaped her lips at the memory of Hope, then 14 years old and terrified._

"_But at the end of the day," the older Estheim sighed. "He's still a child."_

"_You underestimate him."_

"_And you give him too much credit." In contrast to his stern tone, Bartholomew's face revealed a tiny bit of a smirk._

_Silence reigned between the two adults. Lightning considered asking what he was getting at, but he spoke before she could decide on what to say._

"_He's strong, but vulnerable." He untangled his hands and laid them on the table, palms facing up. "He misses them dearly. Nora, especially." His eyes grew wistful at the mention of his wife._

"_But he also talks about the two," he continued. "Fang and Vanille, am I right?"_

_Lightning nodded. Hearing this did not surprise her. She could remember all too clearly how they marveled at the newly crystallized Cocoon, and Hope ran through the Pulsian plain, half-hoping that their two friends would reappear just like Serah and Dajh. Maybe part of him even expected Nora to come out. She saw the flash of disappointment in his eyes, and watched as he pushed it back with a look of resignation, then acceptance._

"_It saddens me that he's forced to cope with so much loss and soldier on," Bartholomew went on, breaking her reverie. "And then, I begin to fear for him. I fear the possibility that even I won't be there. That I might die as well."_

"_Mister Estheim?" she said apprehensively. She instinctively reached over and gripped his wrist, as if to confirm that he was still there, pulse beating._

_He smiled reassuringly, and she pulled her hand away, suddenly reminded of their boundaries._

"_There's no immediate threat to my life, I assure you." Bartholomew leaned back, a tired sigh escaping his lips. "Just thoughts, depressing thoughts entering my mind."_

_Lightning relaxed a little, but her frown remained. Their conversation took a strange, worrying turn. All she wanted now was to know what she had to do with it._

"_So what… what can I offer you?"_

_Hazel eyes met blue. There was a plea hidden in those depths, and Lightning knew that instant that she was inclined to agree to whatever he asked._

"_A promise."_

_

* * *

_

The phone picked up after two rings. The man on the other line recognized her voice instantly.

"Hey Sis!" Snow greeted, voice bright and cheerful first thing in the morning. "How's the highest paid babysitter in Cocoon?"

Lightning bit back the retort that threatened to fly out of her lips. As much as her brother-in-law's teasing rubbed her the wrong way sometimes, she felt a certain closeness to her former companion. Besides, there was no begrudging a man who went through _hell _and back for his sister, so she settled for subtlety and a deep breath.

"Same as always," Lightning said evenly. "Hope has school, and I have my _job_."

Snow chuckled. Probably with his head thrown back, she mused.

"Not that you need one from what Serah told me."

Lightning huffed at this. She did not need a reminder of the financial… benefits of her legal arrangements. She was peevish at the thought of living off someone else's money, but more especially at the implication that she took responsibility over Hope _for a price_.

She mentally cursed at herself for overlooking the fine print. Blame the Estheims and their puppy dog eyes.

"Sis? Helloooo, _nanny_?"

She snapped out of her thoughts immediately. "Quit it," she rejoined, annoyance making its way into her voice. So much for keeping calm.

"Heh!" Snow made no effort to hide his amusement. "What's in it for me?" he asked all too happily.

Lightning could almost picture his playful sneer. Snow, she noted, was a lot bolder when he was beyond reach. She sighed. There was no use winning this battle.

"Nothing but my gratitude, dear _brother_."

Snow let out a hearty guffaw. "Alright!" the man roared with obvious excitement. "That's more like it!"

"Now will you give the phone to Serah?"

"Already at it, Sis!"

Lightning smiled inspite of herself. Mister Hero was so easy to please.

* * *

Hope looked at Lightning as soon as she appeared by the kitchen door. His face lit up with a familiar boyish grin.

Such _happy_ morning people, Lightning thought to her own amusement.

"Good morning, Light. You're up early," Hope said.

She leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest.

"I wanted to talk to Serah before school."

"Ah." He nodded at the mention of the younger Farron. "She goes to the college in Bodhum, right? Taking up History?"

"That's right."

"So…" His voice softened as he took on a more tentative tone. "Do you miss her?"

She looked at Hope, whose hand awkwardly hung in the air as he stared at her, waiting for a response.

"Naturally," she admitted. "Now put that plate down."

"Oh!" he realized what he'd been doing, or stopped doing. He set the plate of eggs and sausage on the table.

Three months had come and gone since Bartholomew's ill-fated airship ride, and over two months since Lightning rushed to Palumpolum to assume her duty as Hope's legal guardian. It was a surreal turn of events, but over the weeks, Lightning and Hope found a semblance of normalcy in their now shared home life.

As promised, Hope prepared breakfast every day, and he quickly learned how to make it to his housemate's liking. She had her coffee black, no sugar, and her breakfast hearty, as expected from a soldier. She never complained about the food on the table, but he saw her grimace slightly at the sight of corned beef, and he held his laugh as she stopped herself from taking another strip of bacon. Hope worked his way around these small observations. No more corned beef—he was never fond of it anyway. And definitely more bacon during bacon days.

They never had to share bathrooms, but Lightning used the one down the hall. Hope had issues with this arrangement, because she tended to come out in just a towel and a toothbrush, not minding nor caring that she lived with a sixteen-year-old boy. He could not bring himself to call her out on her habit, so as soon as he heard the bathroom doorknob turn, he conveniently spun around, or dove to his room, or rummaged very intently through his school bag to save himself from the embarrassment. He figured that modesty was not a big thing in Bodhum, as it was all sunshine, seaside, and lack of clothing in that town.

Hope also found out about Lightning's strange fixation with uniforms—his school uniform in particular. She balked at the sight of him in his slightly wrinkled button-down shirt and not-impeccably tied necktie, and all but ordered him to _immediately_ iron his shirt and straighten out his tie. Eventually, she took care of the ironing, and Hope gave up on doing his necktie. Lightning, for her part, got used to Hope coming up to her for his tie, like a little child waiting for his mama to lace up his shoelaces. So she tied his necktie every day, no questions asked.

They set out in opposite directions every morning, and met again at home in the late afternoon. It was a simple routine that Hope held on to faithfully, as it gave him a sense of order, predictability, and assurance that the world that seemed so upside down could somehow be right again.

* * *

"Most of the time, I don't know what I'm doing."

"You think _I_ do?" the voice over the phone said incredulously. "Geez, Sis, there's a reason why I just charge into everything."

Lightning's grip on the phone tightened. Confiding in Snow suddenly sounded like the worst idea ever. "Look, if you have nothing useful to say-"

"No, no, wait up Sis!" Snow cut in urgently. "I'm just surprised that you're turning to _me_ for advice. I mean, really."

"Serah's busy," she deadpanned. "You're available and convenient."

"Ouch," he said, real hurt evident in his voice. "That burns, but I'll take what I can."

Lightning sighed. There was silence on the other end, and she took it as her cue to keep talking.

"Like I said, this entire guardian business is a little unnerving. I dove straight in, and now I'm not so sure if I'm… capable."

"Come on, Sis. How hard can it be?" Snow said, trying to be encouraging. "He's a teenager. You don't have to arrange playdates or toilet train him or anything. You don't even have to do anything."

"I don't want to _not_ do anything," Lightning grumbled. "You know that I wasn't the best with Serah. I just… I don't want to make the same mistakes again."

"Hey, I know you weren't exactly Little Miss Sunshine back then, but Serah totally loves you. Hope does too. He's not trying to stab you with a knife or anything, right?"

"About that," she said guiltily. "That was partly my fault."

Snow brushed it off with a chuckle. "Don't be so hard on yourself," he said seriously. After a brief pause, he continued, "Look, you're going to screw up one way or another. Everyone does, so it's not the end of the world or anything, right?"

Lightning grunted in agreement.

"And for the record, we're done with the end of the world part."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself too much."

The phone vibrated with his boisterous laugh.

"Really, Sis," Snow began as his laughter died down. "Just be his friend. You can hardly go wrong when it comes to Hope."

"And why is that?" she asked curiously.

"I don't know, but he's totally your chick-"

"_What_?"

"As in chick to the mother hen! He follows you around, you fuss over him, then you cuddle. That kind of thing. Geez, relax!"

"Stop saying strange things, then."

Snow snorted, then he said, "Anyway, that kid's growing up fast. Before you know it, you won't see much of him because he's out with friends. Or girls. Or boys, if he's into that kind of thing." Lightning raised an eyebrow at this. "You'll see."

She closed her eyes, pondering on everything that he said. All things considered, she must admit that her brother-in-law had a point. "Maybe you're right," she conceded. "Thanks, Snow."

"No problem," Snow answered, obviously pleased with himself. "And hey, do me a favor will ya? Tell the kid he can call me anytime. I mean, no pressure. If he wants some man-talk, I'm all ears."

"Okay, I'll tell him that."

"Am I the greatest brother-in-law ever, or what?"

"Oh _shut up_."

* * *

If Hope can pick a favorite routine, it was probably the one that happened after dinnertime. As Lightning put away the dishes (She cooked dinner. A fair division of labor, she said.), he retired to his room to tackle his daily stack of homework. After a couple of hours, his brain screamed for a break, and he came out to take a quick snack and a mug of hot chocolate.

Eventually, it was Lightning who knocked on his door, steaming mugs at the ready. These days, they settled on the patio, where they took in the fresh wind of Felix Heights.

Hope supplied his daily tale of high school woes, with Lightning nodding and commenting at the right moments. She was not one to draw the topic to herself, but she answered Hope's questions whenever he had some. To Hope's credit, he never failed to ask.

"How's work? Made any friends yet?" Hope asked teasingly one time. They had relaxed around each other enough to joke around.

Lightning gave a small laugh. "New enemies, more like," she said, a smile not entirely wiped off her face.

He looked at her, brows furrowed. "Really?"

This time, she really laughed. Hope still was not used to seeing her laugh, and he felt like patting himself on the back every time she did.

"No, of course not," she said. "I'm aloof, but hardly antagonistic."

"Good that you know, Light. Self-awareness is the first step, they say," he quipped. It earned him a playful jab on the arm.

"And you should learn a thing or two about respect," Lightning said. "I deal with smart alecks like you all day." The smirk on his face grew even wider.

They settled into comfortable silence as they turned to their mugs, enjoying the warmth of their drinks against the cool breeze of the night.

"But seriously, Light," Hope started after a while. "How's work?"

She considered his question with a thoughtful expression. "It's… mostly the same," she offered after a few moments. "Combat training is all about repetition and discipline. There's nothing much to expect."

"Combat training, huh?" he repeated. "I think it suits you."

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Oh?"

"Well, maybe it's just me," Hope said. He scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "You taught me how to fight, after all. It's not hard for me to imagine what you're doing for those newbies."

Lightning rested her elbows on the railing, mug cupped between her hands. The rest of Palumpolum stretched out from where she stood.

"I never saw myself as a kind of teacher," she admitted. "I wouldn't sign up for it if I had a choice."

"If you need proof of your teaching skills, just look over here." Hope waved a hand in front of her face, and grinned cheerfully as her gaze shifted back to him. "See? I'm still alive. Success story number one."

Lightning nodded, then her face grew solemn. "Then again, Hope," she said softly. "We owe everything to those two up there." She gazed skyward, where Eden hung in the sky. Any Cocoon citizen who looked up could see the crystallized image of the former capital as it crumbled—a chilling reminder of the day that paradise was lost. For the former l'Cie, however, it was a reminder of the day that the world was saved, thanks to their friends' sacrifice.

Hope fell silent as he followed her gaze. Lightning noticed the change in her companion. She brushed his cheek lightly with her fingers. When he turned to look, she had a soft smile on her face, one that gently prodded him to say what troubled his mind.

"Sometimes, I imagine what it'd be like if everyone made it," Hope confessed, his head bowed down. "I wonder where Fang and Vanille would live. Will they be in Bodhum or Palumpolum?" Then he shook his head sadly. "No, they'll probably go to one of the settlements in Gran Pulse."

"Then I think, what if… what if Mom survived?" he went on. "Dad and I will find her, then we'll come back here. Maybe we could finally take a vacation together, all three of us. Or maybe we'll just stay at home, just to catch up, you know? Maybe Mom could convince Dad to skip that business trip, then he wouldn't have to board that airship."

He finally looked up. His voice remained steady, but his eyes told another story. Lightning squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

"I know, Light," he said with a sad smile. "There's no use for these fantasies. But sometimes, it just feels so unfair, you know?"

Lightning acknowledged him with a nod.

"It's unfair, yes," she agreed. "But these are things we cannot change. Maybe we can still hope for Fang and Vanille, but even then…" She felt sorry for having say it out loud, but it was something they both knew, and something he had to accept. There was no coming back for Nora and Bartholomew. Even Fang and Vanille were unlikely to return within their lifetime.

"Yeah, you're right. You're right," he said with a resigned sigh.

Lightning saw it again—the same look of acceptance that he wore after their reawakening. Carefully, she took his mug out of his hands and brought it and her own mug inside. When she came back, Hope was seated on the steps, staring at nothing in particular.

She took the space beside him, and she leaned her forehead to the side of his head, her hand resting gently across his back.

"You know you're not alone," she murmured.

"I know," was his quiet reply. "I'll live through this, Light, I promise. But for now, please, bear with me."

She lifted her head and brought her hand up to ruffle his hair. "You can't get rid of me even if you wanted to. Not until you're 18 and my guardianship expires."

Hope turned his head to look at Lightning with a small, mischievous grin. She pulled back slightly as she eyed him suspiciously.

"Now what's that look for?" she said defensively.

"Nothing," he said with a chuckle. "Just thinking how much I _love_ legally binding contracts." Lightning scowled, making Hope laugh even harder.

That earned Hope a well-deserved flick to the forehead.

* * *

**End note:** I don't really know how militaries work, but for the sake of this story, I'm just assuming that Lightning is allowed to live off-base and her duties are not as demanding as a full-on drill sergeant. You could say that she holds training sessions as a kind of combat/weapons specialist. I'm not going to try and go into detail about her job anyway, just that she gets to work regular hours and stay in Felix Heights.

Like I said last chapter, it was a mistake to set the story in Cocoon. I started the story before finishing the game, so I had to work around it somehow.

Lastly, reviews would be lovely. It's my first major story attempt, so please help me out ;)


	4. Chapter 3: Frequencies

******NOTE:** So I finally update... after 3 years. Imagine that! I "rediscovered" my love for FF13 after seeing the trailers and demos for Lightning Returns, found my old folders, caught the writing bug again, and thankfully remembered my password for this account. I don't know if the original readers of this story will still find this interesting or if new readers will decide to backtrack from the beginning. But if you're reading this now, thank you!

This is set one year after Chapter 2. Most of this was written 3 years ago and was probably meant for a longer chapter, but I decided to post this as a transition for the rest of the story. When this fic started, I didn't even finish the first game yet. So this is a post-FF13 fic with no knowledge of the FF13-2 and LR universe.

* * *

******No Questions Asked, Chapter 3**

**Frequencies**

Sounds accompanied Lightning as she washed the dishes. Running water - _drip_ _drip_, the clink of a plate touching a mug. She wiped the counters. Tucked the chair under the table. She gave the kitchen a final glance before turning off the light.

She turned on the TV and flipped to a news program. _It's been quiet lately_, she noted. Hope was out again.

He knew his limits and she trusted him enough to keep to them. To his credit, he always came home at a reasonable time (and she never even set a curfew) and gently closed the front door so as not to wake her. He didn't know that it woke her up anyway. Blame a soldier's instinct, a protective instinct. But she knew he was home and that was enough.

Their conversations used to be colored by Hope's youthful excitement and desire to impress her. Over time, they mellowed down to the basics - _Hi, hello, how are you, have a nice day, see you later_. Hope's mind wandered far from where Lightning could follow. His phone would ring and that was when all the words he'd been saving were let out.

Occasionally, Lightning found herself looking at the pictures on the shelf. Nora's gently smiling portrait still occupied a place of honor beside the one and only Estheim family picture. Right beside it was a picture of Bartholomew and Hope in Yaschas Massif two months before the accident. They had their arms around each other - a solid albeit short-lived improvement from their tense relationship before.

Then there was the album of pictures from Hope's seventeenth birthday party. Sazh owned one of those big complicated cameras and became an avid hobbyist. _You can never have too many pictures_, he said. _Gotta hold on to the happy times_.

Lightning didn't have to open it to know what was inside anymore. _Snow and Serah feeding each other cake like newlyweds. Dajh's wide grin marred by chocolate. An obligatory group photo. A lit candle placed dangerously on Sazh's nest of hair_. Then there was a photo of Lightning and Hope laughing together over something that she couldn't remember. She didn't even know that a picture was being taken then. But she was leaning onto him and his hand was on her shoulder and their cheeks were nearly touching. He'd reached her height already. It was a perfect moment captured. Sazh did have an eye for these things.

* * *

"You need to go out more," was Snow's advice. She'd been talking to him more than she talked to Serah.

"Work's been hectic but I've been training in the gym."

"Go out _with people_," he stressed.

Lightning bit her lip at the obvious frustration from the other end of the line. Snow was right. She didn't have to do much to make sure that Hope was alright. Despite his and Serah's constant reminders to "build a life for herself" in Palumpolum, she kept to herself at work and stuck to the quiet routine that she shared with Hope. But Hope strayed from their shared rituals to spend time with his school friends these days. Eventually, Lightning found herself in a house that had too many empty spaces in it.

"I'm only here for six more months," Lightning explained. "After that…"

"After that, what?"

"I'll go back to Bodhum."

"_Then_ what?"

"Then go back to work there."

Snow let out a loud exhale. Lightning understood. She'd been living her life for everyone else. She defined herself according to who she should watch over and who she should protect.

But soon, very soon, she won't be needed anymore. Hope won't need her, and neither would Serah.

The silence was deafening.


End file.
